


lost in balms (come slowly)

by phwaa



Category: Dickinson (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-10
Updated: 2019-11-10
Packaged: 2021-01-23 14:16:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21321559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phwaa/pseuds/phwaa
Summary: Between the autumn breeze and orchard trees, Sue finds Emily sulking.
Relationships: Emily Dickinson/Susan "Sue" Gilbert
Comments: 25
Kudos: 442





	lost in balms (come slowly)

LOST IN BALMS (COME SLOWLY)

Come slowly – Eden!

Lips unused to Thee –

Bashful – sip thy Jessamines –

As the fainting Bee –

Reaching late his flower,

Round her chamber hums –

Counts his nectars –

Enters – and is lost in Balms.

(Emily Dickinson)

Between the autumn breeze and orchard trees, Sue finds Emily sulking. 

"Sometimes," she says, with eyes trained to the soil. "Sometimes I think you only married my brother to spite me." 

Sue doesn't hide her disappointment. "To spite you." She repeats. "And why would I want to spite you, Emily?" 

With a voice stringing along her most childish vocal chords, Emily openly whines. "Because," she says, "I loved death more than you." 

Emily sits whilst Sue stands, her dress is black against Sue's opposing white. They're at odds these days, fighting against the magnets attracting, distracting and relapsing. As if reflecting their inner turmoil, Sue pushes against Emily's pull. 

"Not everything is about you, Emily Dickinson." 

"It mostly is." Emily, for all the tails she likes to tell, is being deadly serious. "When you make a decision to marry Austin, it is." 

Exasperated and empty, Sue sighs against the wind caressing her bare arms. Emily watches as she watches her. She could write trilogies on the way Sue's lips curl with a slow reluctance, as if she doesn't even know it's happening at all. 

"I love you." Sue says, when she's breathed out all the frustration she was holding in. Emily watches it dissipate like a dragon releasing the burdening fire. "But you're the most self absorbed person I've ever met." 

As usual, Emily takes what she wants from the response. "Yes, you love me, Sue. As I love you." She stands, moves to mirror her best friend until even her face contorts the same. "But now you've added a husband to the mix and I have to share you." 

"I've always shared you." Sue says, swaying forward until her finger can tug against Emily's and they're holding hands in seconds. "With your wonderful imagination and beloved writing. You've never been completely mine." 

With Sue's touch, Emily softens. Her whole body melting against Sue's core, burning bright and beautiful. It's second nature to thread her fingers through the hairs at the back of Sue's neck, stroking the skin there and pulling her closer. 

"Emily." The predictable warning is always in vain when Sue is leaning in to match. Her breath warm against Emily's lips, her eyes watching the nearing mouth. "We shouldn't." 

She closes her eyes just before she can roll them back. The movement is lost in the press of her lips, the nudge of her nose and draw of her jaw to deepen the kiss. Sue returns it, pulling Emily closer and closer until their bodies merge into one. 

Sue opens her mouth to sigh but the noise that escapes is one of regret. Her lips move with the shake of her head, "no." She murmurs, her lips still moving against Emily's as if she still can't decide what to do. "No, Emily. Stop." 

With a frown already furrowed into her brows, Emily pulls away and shrugs. "What?" 

"We shouldn't. I'm married now." Sue is breathing heavier, eyes still tracing the mouth in front. "To your brother." 

With a powerful petulance, Emily dons her best pout. "Well why not? He doesn't have to know." 

"I think," Sue brushes the pad of her thumb across Emily's cheek. She appears to struggle with her words, swallowing dry and desperate. "Maybe we shouldn't do this kind of thing anymore." 

Rejection coursing through her veins, betrayal burning across her skin until she's positively boiling. Emily nods and spits out an ugly laugh, stepping away, away, away until her back hits the branch behind. 

"Yeah. Yes, Susan Dickinson. Yes, great idea. Brilliant." The sick in Emily's gut rolls and rises and she swallows it back. There's an apple on the floor and she thinks about throwing it. "I won't miss it anyway." 

Sue's eyes are watery, her bottom lip quivering. "Emily-" 

“I have some writing to see to." She says, tripping away. "I'll see you around, maybe. Our paths will cross again." 

Ignoring her dramatics, Sue knowingly suggests, "at dinner." 

Emily, looking wistfully away into the distance, nods her agreement. "Yes, dear Sue. At dinner." 

With that, Emily is gone. 

  
It's a terrible idea. 

Emily rubs her thumb against her lips and misses Sue already. Sure, she'll see her. Across the table and beside her brother, through the glistening of her glass and reflection in her cutlery. She looks beautiful even with a wedding ring on her finger. 

Her father is talking about the train that will soon be running across her green, green garden. Emily sees the tracks across the table and smoke engulfing them all, wrapping around Austin, Sue and eventually her mother. 

She starts to cough against the onslaught of smoke until the fumes fizzle out and disappear. Of course, it was never there to begin with. 

Emily ignores the stares from the table. "Sorry," she says, patting her palm against her chest. "Something caught in my throat." And then, under her breath, "boredom, probably." 

She clearly wasn't quiet enough, her mother tuts from the end of the table. "Emily." 

Her shoulders rise and fall in a shrug, eyebrows raising unapologetically. "Mother." 

The conversation continues and Emily fades back into her brilliant imagination to pass the time. 

  


At dusk, death comes to find her. 

She climbs the carriage and covers herself in the darkness this companion allows. Stars align the sky and the wind whistles against the wood. 

"Have you finally come for me, Death?" 

"No." He says, teeth a brilliant white, eyes a deadly black. "Not yet, darling. You've got a lot more to do before then." 

He pushes his glasses up but his wink is still magical behind the blue glass simmering before his eyes. Without the comfort of Sue, she considers giving more love to the man in front. Perhaps if she invests in death, her aching loss won't sting quite so much. She waits for her time to come, hopes every visit will be her last. 

"When you came for Ben, I was hoping you would come for me too." She smooths down her crimson dress, swallows down the pain. "I was in agony. You shouldn't have taken him before me." 

Death shakes his head, his low laugh gravelly and grave. "Emily, my sweet." He spins his cane beneath his finger. "You understand love better than most, it's why you feel the loss so completely. It'll pass." 

She remembers the eclipse, the sun swallowed up and Ben swallowed away. With blood soaking through his hands and drying at his mouth, Death will never quite understand what Emily lost that day. 

  


She spends the week writing and writing and writing. Holed up in her room, making light conversation with her siblings at the table and taking the odd trip to her favorite tree. She avoids the orchard and beautiful girl within it. 

Her poems are songs and they fill the pages like scribbles along the walls of her room. Like a lullaby wrapping a warm hug around her, Lavinia pulls the chord and trips into her room. 

"We need water." She says, a pout pulling at her lips. "Sue is being sick everywhere and it's dirty and smelly." 

Emily taps her pencil against the paper and twists to see her sister. "It's the baby fighting back." She says. "Telling us all to stop populating this horrible world." 

Lavinia rolls her eyes. "It's your turn to get the water." 

She argues against it for several minutes before Lavinia stomps her foot and Emily gives in. Hands in the air and muse lost across the page, she closes her books and hides them away. 

She passes Sue in the hallway and manoeuvres so their shoulders don't brush. Sue watches with scrutiny as she side steps away, taking more space than necessary. 

Emily congratulates herself on the avoidance, skipping down the steps and swinging a bucket in each hand until she reaches the well. 

"You're avoiding me." 

It's Sue, swaying nearby and nervously biting at her bottom lip. Her hands are pressing against her stomach, still slim against her hips and showing nothing of the alien inside. 

"You asked me to." She says, twisting the handle and watching the rope descend. She's trying to be grown up about the situation, respect Sue's wishes and create some distance. 

Sue shakes her head, stepping forward. "No," she says, "I didn't ask for this. I said we should stop the whole..." Sue doesn't have the words, she licks her lips as if her body is talking for her. 

Emily hears the water below and only then looks away from the mouth in front. "Is that not what I've done?" 

"We can still be friends." Sue says, her feet move ever closer, the cold getting a little warmer. "Please don't leave me completely, Emily. Please don't, please." 

Her eyes are lost in panic, her voice pained and pleading. Sue steps forward and Emily gravitates closer, a bumble bee forever finding her queen. 

"Please." Her voice is shaky as the gap begins to close. "This isn't what I wanted at all."

Emily shushes her the moment they're in touching distance. Her finger rests along Sue's lips until she stops speaking and Sue presses a single kiss to the pad of her finger. Somewhere behind them the rope has fallen and the bucket splashes back down. Somewhere in the distance her sister waits for water long forgotten.

"Okay," Emily says, pulling her finger away but keeping her eyes trained on the lips in front. "Okay, we'll be the best of friends again. I didn't know how much space you wanted, I was trying to help."

"Well you're not helping." Sue snivels. "You're making everything so much worse. I'm an emotional wreck these days and only half is due to this baby inside me." She looks up and into Emily's eyes, poking a finger hard against her shoulder causing Emily to sway back. "Half is you."

She rubs her shoulder, pouts at the point and turns back to the well with her lost buckets. Sue steps beside her, close enough their arms brush with every breath. "You're silly, Sue." Emily says, grabbing hold of the wooden leaver. "I wouldn't leave you, not even a little and definitely not completely."

Now that they're finally together again, the breeze becomes warmer, the grass grows thicker and the flowers fan out and flourish. Nature is at ease when they stand in the field as one. The water returns to the house late but with two extra hands to help.

She often spreads her poems out across the floor and slowly sorts them into a system. A hobby born from the need to find importance in her writings, in the dance of her pen when dusk comes to rest. It changes so often, the order tends to depict her mood and she'll live in it for the evening.

Oldest to newest, love to hate, birth to death. The very dark to the very light. Poems for people and poems for Sue.

Birds and bees and the blooming leaves, it's this order that Maggie finds her in.

She's lying across the floorboards, pages strewn around her head as if petals falling from the pistil to leave her vulnerable. As a stem would stay solid in the departure, her body lies still and waits to fend off the winter. Open but ever so empty, the butterfly moves to the next flower available.

She hears Maggie drop clothing onto her bed before coming to stand at Emily's feet. "What a pretty sculpture you would make." She says, hands on her hip and leaning into her side. Her body always on the edge of a breakdown, bearing the brunt of cleaning after the Dickinsons. "What are you doing?"

Emily doesn't move at first, face stoic as she summons her inner flower. "I'm channeling nature."

Maggie nods. "Ah yes," she says, eyes scanning over the scattered paper. "It's obvious."

She sits upright and her stem snaps into a million pieces. "I'm a published poet, Maggie. Did you know that?"

"No, I didn't, love." With the sigh of a generation, she bends and creaks before finally sitting.

Cross-legged and adjacent, Emily begins to collect her poetry petals from around her limbs. "Do you remember that poem Austin wrote for the competition in the paper?" She asks, stopping to glance across at Maggie. "Well, I wrote that. I just used his name because I knew my father wouldn't approve."

Maggie smiles for several seconds before her eyes bulge and she schools her face into shock. "Wow. That is a surprise."

Emily squints and studies the woman opposite. "You already knew," she concludes.

"Well I had my suspicions." Maggie says, laughing at Emily's unwavering face. "Okay, yes I knew. That boy couldn't string two words together, let alone write a poem as beautiful as that."

The pride that comes with her poetry is something that fills and fills and fills until she's full and flying. Emily was born to put pencil to paper, to string words into the song and dance of existence and expose all the empty holes in the world just to plug it. She was born to be a writer and a poet, to exist only for words she might write and stories she might tell.

"It was a favorite of mine." Emily says, now positively beaming. "One day I'll have many in the paper. I'll fill a whole book, a whole shop even."

Maggie is smiling, small but genuine. She reaches across and strokes Emily's hand before squeezing. "Of course you will. I don't doubt it one bit."

Sue grows bigger and bigger.

"I wonder what's in there." Emily says, poking a finger at Sue's belly. She's gentle so not to burst it.

Sue laughs, pulling herself up against the sofa with strained features before she settles. "A baby?"

"That's not what I mean." Emily scoffs and looks across to where Austin sits unimpressed and watching. "A little boy, a little girl. Perhaps a mix of both."

"Don't be so stupid, Emily." He says, eyes rolling so far back Emily wonders if she'll ever see his pupils again. Sadly they return as cold and ugly as ever. "Leave Sue to rest now. She gets tired so easily these days."

Sue frowns at him, challenging. Austin shrugs at her, uncaring. Emily looks between them and wonders who will win.

"I'm fine, Austin." Sue looks disapproving at her husbands clear battle for power. "Emily can stay as long as she likes."

"No," Austin stands and the war is won. The portrait of a man of the house, paint running dry and canvas cracking. "You should have a lie down. Emily has better things to do than hover around my house."

She doesn't actually, but Emily smooths out her dress and stands regardless. Whilst feeling unwanted is often one of her favorite reasons to stay, Austin isn't her biggest fan lately and she wouldn't want to cause Sue any stress from seeing them argue.

Emily presses a kiss to her hand and deposits it at the top of Sue's head. "And one for baby." She adds, kissing her fingers to tap against Sue's belly.

She leaves no kiss for her brother.

It's dark when she sees it. She should really be in bed, getting sleep for the big party the next day, but Emily is walking alone in the empty streets instead.

Except she's not alone, the carriage she knows too well is parked outside a familiar house. From the small carriage door window, Death pulls the curtain back and smiles as Emily looks down to see her red dress, can already feel her lips thick with crimson. The horses are silent as they start to travel away, until they're in the distance and disappearing.

Emily knows the small brick house belongs to Old Mr Baker, long ago widowed and left without a family. When she finally pushes open the door, her deathly dress is gone and she's back to her usual clothing. She wonders if it was a departure or just a drop by. She wonders if she'll come across a cold body or a lonely old man.

It's the latter and Mr Baker doesn't turn around to greet her. "Back so soon?" He says, facing away and looking out of the far window. "I thought you said I had a while longer."

Emily coughs and shuffles into the small living area. "It's me, Mr Baker."

He jolts, turns with a frown that drops as his frail features fix into a smile. "Ah, lovely Emily Dickinson." He still looks around the room, as if expecting someone else. Something else, perhaps. "I thought you were..."

Mr Baker trails off and Emily wonders, for the first time in a long time, if she isn't the only person privy to the underworld.

"I saw," she points outside, to the doorway, to the street, to where Death had been waiting to devour. Emily decides not to broach the subject, though his eyes show a recognition she hasn't seen before. He knows Death like she does. "I wanted to check you were okay."

He seems genuinely pleased, but his eyes are still straying to where Emily had been pointing. "That's very sweet." Mr Baker looks worn out and a whisper away from disappearing completely. Like an orange dropped and left for weeks, he's crumpled and dried out, decaying behind the scabrous skin. "He said he'll be back for me soon."

Emily nods. "He comes for me most nights." As concern starts to descend across his features, she quickly explains. "He won't take me away, it's only for a ride." She tries to keep the disappointment out of her voice.

"He looks scary." Mr Baker says. "I've never seen him before tonight."

"No, he's kind." Emily suddenly feels an overwhelming sympathy for him. Lost and lonely and losing his battle with life, Mr Baker stands but curls, walks but wavers. His feet carry him to the nearest chair and he sighs into the cushions as if his body couldn't take much more. "He'll look after you."

Mr Baker observes her for a while, gripping tight to the arm rest. He looks like a failed man when he asks, "should I be scared, Emily?"

She shakes her head. "No, Mr Baker. Death is nothing to fear."

Emily leaves him after a while, but she promises to return and smiles sadly as she goes.

The party seems a little pointless.

Announcing a pregnancy when Sue has been walking around with a blooming belly for months is hardly practical.

Emily sits in the chair in the corner and watches people. Smiling and singing and presents and praise. Sue is hesitant where Austin is wholesome. He's in his element, pulling Sue tight to his side, shaking hands and rubbing the bulging belly beside him. Her mother is playing the piano and trying to start a spontaneous choir whilst her father is speaking about the future Dickinson when he really wants to discuss his future business.

She would find Lavinia and make her entertain her, but she disappeared long ago with a tall man with extra long ears. When a similar man approaches her slumped on the chair, smiling and asking if she'd like to dance to the unfortunate tunes coming from her mother's mouth, Emily stands and leaves.

She gets to her conservatory and shuts the door in time to prevent the chorus slipping in. It's silent between her flowers, growing and guiding their way to the sun behind the glass. Emily finally relaxes.

"You look almost as happy to be in there as me."

"You have to be in there." She says, turning to see Sue still standing at the closed doors. "It's your party."

Sue shrugs, her hands finding her stomach instinctively. "Austin didn't want to invite you."

Emily rolls her eyes. "I wish he hadn't."

The room always feels a little smaller when Sue is nearby, the walls move in and the ceiling drops down. The air becomes thicker and Emily struggles to swallow it down. Sue must feel it too, by the way her eyes are constantly longing and lingering across Emily's face.

"Where were you last night?" Sue asks. She hasn't moved from the doors but she feels closer. "I came to find you but you weren't in your room."

She remembers Old Mr Baker and his desperately sad eyes. "I was visiting someone."

Sue nods, like she accepts the answer but doesn't approve. She has questions filling her face but she never asks them, Emily watches them eat away at her.

"We weren't..." Emily doesn't know what to say. By forbidding the behavior, Sue has prevented all discussions about what they used to do. What they used to be, beneath the sheets and hidden between the orchard. "It wasn't like what we have." She shakes her head. "Had."

Sue sways against the door handles, her breathing as hard and labored as Emily's. "You don't have to explain yourself." It sounds like a lie from her lips. "I just missed you."

She's pushed the loss so deep inside, Emily sometimes forgets how empty she feels without Sue. The kisses across her shoulder and into the crook of her neck, the fingers that stroked at her thighs before travelling up and up, the moans mouthed wetly beneath her ear-lope. "I miss you too." She says and the words feel heavy as they crash through the air. "I write about you all the time."

"Can I read them?" Sue asks.

Emily nods. "Of course. They're upstairs, I can-"

Her words are drowned out by the sound of the glass being rapped. Austin stands stern behind the doors blocked by Sue. He looks angry and his hand is high and ready to strike again when Sue sighs and turns, nodding eagerly. They pass facial expressions between them until Austin is satisfied and walks away.

When she finally turns back to Emily, Sue looks exhausted. "I should get back to the party."

"The party." Emily nods. "For you and Austin." It still makes her feel queasy, pairing the two in the same sentence. It used to be Sue and Emily and her brother was nowhere near the equation.

Sue takes several seconds to breath in and out, in and out, in and out. When she's finally full of air and standing a little taller, she opens the door and leaves the quiet of Emily to live in the chaos of Austin.

As is often the case nowadays, Emily is left alone with nature.

In slumber she dreams of lives she hasn't yet lived. Lives she will never live.

Promised to a hand never to marry, Ben had been a gentle choice. They run across the pages of their favorite books, as small as ants and books the size of fields. Rolling in the words and laughing against the creases, Emily finds the spine and stays in it. Ben, off in the distance, is melting through the paper and sinking between the sentences.

"Ben?" She's shouting, trying to climb out towards him. He's smiling as he's swallowed up. The book is lifted and she falls down to the table below as it closes and Ben is lost forever.

A large pencil descends downs, lands at Emily's feet and travels away and across a blank sheet. The graphite dances alone and spells out her name in large letters. When she looks up, it's Ben's face she sees, hardened and soft, shadowed in light, open but lost. He smiles down and drops the pencil. It bounces and Emily is thrown into the air from the impact.

"Your world is small, Emily." He says. "I'm up here in the real world."

She frowns, shakes her head. Her voice is small against his bellow. "But you're dead."

"Exactly." Ben nods. He picks her up, drops her onto the palm of his hand and purses his lips. "Now fly." He breathes in and before she can find any purchase, he blows with every inch of air within his body and Emily is launched through the window.

She's gushing through the sky until the momentum depletes and she's dropping down, down, down.

Hitting ground would kill her.

She reads her poetry to Mr Baker and always finds joy with the way he closes his eyes.

It allows him to take it all in, he'd explained when Emily had first queried if he'd fallen asleep.

His fingers fold slower over the arm rest and his eyes take forever to flutter shut. Emily often wonders if he'll pass halfway through a poem. She finds herself touching her lips constantly, pulling them back and checking for a trace of lipstick. Jolting at every fly that hovers near.

"You'll break hearts, Emily Dickinson." He says, often. "You're breaking mine."

She knows it's not true. For starters, no heart has ever belonged to Emily, not completely. She held George's for a while, but only temporarily and she passed it back when he left to travel. She held Ben's but it stopped beating before it could break. Sue's heart has always passed from her hands to her brother's.

And Old Mr Baker has told her about his heart, the day it shattered to shards before being buried in the soil with his late wife.

She thinks of her own heart, how it's scattered across all her writings and woven into her words.

Her ribs ripped open, heart naked on display, Emily wonders what's left of it.

She thinks of this, when she hands over the creased paper to the steady hand holding out.

Sue takes the poetry and sits on the rug beneath her. Emily does the same, watching as she reads through them carefully. One by one, Sue takes longer than she needs with each page, reads it over in her head as if to memorize the words. Each poem a symphony sung solely to celebrate Sue's beauty.

Emily isn't even a little embarrassed to have such a large body of work dedicated to Sue. Looking across now, she can't help composing speeches and strings of similes about how perfect Sue is. Her eyes and ears and simmering tears.

"Why are you crying?" Emily asks, reaching over to wipe the droplets away.

Sue shakes her head, she's only halfway through the pile but she places them beside her. "You write me so beautifully." She sniffs and looks up to Emily. "I don't deserve it."

Emily shuffles closer, so their knees are touching and warm with contact. "You deserve more, Sue. You're my favorite person in the world, you know that."

With her eyes still wet and her face spilling over with sadness, Sue leans forward to press a small kiss to the corner of Emily's mouth. She tries not to think too much into it, closes her eyes against the feeling and tries to imagine the lips pressing longer, travelling elsewhere. Sue lingers in place, her breath warm and gentle against Emily's skin.

It's cold when she pulls away.

Emily stays in the moment for a second longer before opening her eyes, sees Sue still tracing her features with hungry eyes.

"I wish life was different." Sue says. "I wish for so many things. All the time."

Emily can relate, but she still asks, "like what?"

Silent for a long time, Sue looks to the lips opposite before licking her own. Her eyes find Emily's and she shakes her head like she's not quite sure what she wants to say, but it's not true. Sue knows exactly what she wants to say but it's still a surprise when she whispers, "you."

"You can have me." Emily says, immediately, reaching across to rest her hand behind Sue's neck. Playing with the hairs that have escaped her braid.

Sue shakes her head before leaning into the touch. "The world isn't as easy as that, Emily. We can only have snippets of what we want."

Her thumb strokes along the length of Sue's jaw and travels over her cheek until it finds her bottom lip. Jutted out and down, Emily smooths her nail across Sue's lips before pulling her closer to press a kiss against them. It only lasts a moment and ends in seconds but Sue sobs into it and follows as Emily pulls back.

"The world isn't easy, Sue. But you make it easier." Emily releases Sue, lets her hand fall from the neck in front. "And you make it so much harder."

Sue slumps back, even with a baby bump she looks deflated. "Same to you, Emily Dickinson."

Emily smiles and is relieved to see Sue do the same.

She picks the poems up from beside her thigh and sighs into them. "I wish I could just live within these words." Sue says, beginning to read again.

Like a bumble bee with their queen, Emily will forever share Sue with a colony.

Lavinia has knitted almost a room full of baby clothes in a range of different colors. She's giddy against the fabric, needles moving against her hands in a robotic motion and yarn unraveling at her feet. She's been moping around the house ever since Joseph Lyman announced his recent engagement. Emily thought Lavinia was long over that catastrophic crush.

"Don't you have friends, Vinnie?" Emily asks, picking up one of many socks so small her finger would struggle to get comfortable.

Her hands stop for barely a second to allow her to take Emily in. "Don't you?" She asks.

She thinks back to her funeral, wonders if the seats would still be as empty. "I have Sue." She says, considers mentioning Bee and Death and the Butterfly that visits on occasion.

"Austin has Sue." Lavinia says, but her voice is concerned and slightly condescending. As if she's setting her up for a fall she hasn't felt yet.

Emily is about to scoff and argue back, but she smells her mother's perfume before she hears her announcing cough.

"Just the two daughters I was looking for." Her mother says, smiling and rubbing her hands over the apron hanging at her waist. Even with help around the house, her mother can't relinquish control.

"Your only two daughters." Emily says, looking for the door to flee.

Her mother ignores it. "There is a lovely young man coming for dinner later this week and I want you both to help with the preparations." The stern look across her mother's face is a clear indication that this is not just a polite suggestion. Mrs Emily Norcross Dickinson is drawing the battle lines. "He would make for a perfect suitor."

"Oh here we go." Emily grumbles aloud, letting her whole body slump and head lull back. "I was hoping you would be done with this after Austin gave you a wedding."

"A mother is never done trying to give her children the best possible life."

From the rocking chair in the corner of the room, Lavinia finally puts her knitting needles down. Emily would gasp in shock and feign a faint if Lavinia didn't look so excited. "I think you're doing a great job, Mother." Lavinia wades through the waves of clothing. "I would love to help. I'll start now, if you like. Get in some practice."

Emily rolls her eyes as her mother tries to calm Lavinia down, explaining that it isn't for several days and fighting to keep her apron from Lavinia's grip.

She uses the distraction to escape.

It's not Emily's idea but she thrives on it.

Halfway through a quiet reading, Mr Baker murmurs, "the whole world should know the beauty of your writing."

Emily stumbles over a few more words until she realizes he's talking to her. His eyes are still closed and she wonders if she'd imagined it.

"You should get these published, Emily." He says, opening his eyes as if it's the greatest task of the day. "People should know about you and your poetry."

She nods her head at first, remembering her one failed attempt at a published poem and one successful in another name completely. Her nod fades to a shake and Emily ends the dance in a shrug. "They would never speak to a female, let alone publish one of my poems."

Old Mr Baker has a shine in his eye when he says, "perhaps there are ways around that."

The ways around that happen to be spending several slow hours getting him into a rickety wooden wheelchair and several more slow hours pushing him along the stony streets of Amherst. Emily is soaked through with sweat when they finally reach the building for the local paper.The Amherst Express sign appears dusty and old but the building stands tall in the humid heat.

Old Mr Baker was a reasonably successful man in life but with very few connections to the press. He coughs and croaks and confesses a dying wish that most would find hard to dismiss, and they're ushered through to a small office.

Emily had allowed Mr Baker to choose his favorite poem, and she watches him slide it across the table top with delicate digits.

"My dear Granddaughter wrote this for me," he smiles sweetly up at Emily. His eyes a mix of mischief and marvel. "It would be a dream to see it in the paper before," he coughs a little more, splutters into his side before settling. "Before I die."

They spend several minutes watching Mr Baker wither away before taking a copy of the poem and Emily's preferred name.

The journey back feels a lot quicker, Emily can't help jumping up and down against the wooden frame of the wheelchair, skidding and singing along. Bee spins beside her, flying in circles above her head and clapping his small insect hands. She settles Old Mr Baker in, makes him a cup of tea before she leaves for the day.

"You're one of the best, Mr Baker." She says, pressing a small kiss to the top of his head.

He nods his agreement but his eyes are already closing.

It's with great disappointment she finds two familiar ghostly horses waiting outside his house.

The carriage door opens and Emily lifts the layers of her red dress to climb inside. Death watches her settle before offering her a welcoming nod.

"Why do you have to take him?" She asks, looking to the house outside the four carriage walls. "Can't you take someone else?"

Death blinks slowly and shrugs, his cane spinning beside him. "And who would you like me to take instead, Emily?"

She doesn't know, says as much in a whisper. "I don't know. There are lots of other people."

"I have lots of people on my list. He's not the only one I'll take tonight."

Emily tries not to pout, but her lips protrude regardless. "Give him one more day, please? I was going to collect some flowers for him."

Death seems to consider it. His cane stops moving and hits ground, he uses it as momentum to swing closer. "One more day, Emily. But not a moment more."

She doesn't hide the smile, nodding and reaching for the handle before he changes his mind.

"And that's only because you write me so well." He adds, watching her go.

Emily is on a mission.

She'd hardly slept and the moment her eyes had opened she'd been running out to the garden.

She has a fist full of flowers when Sue finds her fiddling with a ribbon below her best tree.

"Are they for the suitor your Mother has arranged?" She asks, leaning against the brittle bark. "They're beautiful."

Emily scoffs, looking over and smiling. She surrounds herself with the image of Sue so regularly, sometimes Emily forgets the real thing is so much better. "You look beautiful." She says, squinting against the sun haloing Sue's face. "And no, absolutely not. They're for a friend."

Sue steps closer so they're toe to toe when Emily stands. The baby bump the only space between them. "You spend a lot of time with this friend."

"Are you jealous?" She asks, laughing. Sue's face remains unreadable and Emily inches back and frowns. Whilst she feels a strange thrill with the knowledge that Sue may be jealous of anyone Emily spends time with, she also feels a great need to protect her. "Sue, there is nothing to feel jealous about."

Sue shrugs, not so sure. "I hardly see you these days."

"You're always with Austin and Mother preparing for the baby." Emily says. "I hardly see you."

"You're meant to be my best friend, Emily." Sue sounds desperate. It's quiet, like a hurricane only just feeling friction. "I've been hoping you would come to me for weeks. Support me through this like you always promised."

Emily studies the face across, perhaps she was wrong and the hurricane is more advanced than she thought. "I have come to you."

"Not properly. You're distant. Ever since I stopped the," again, Sue can't find the words. Emily doesn't think a word has been invented to describe them just yet. "I didn't want to stop it, I never wanted to. I just thought I was doing the right thing."

The flowers fall gently to the grass beneath so Emily can reach out. Her hand smooths across Sue's cheek.

"I've been so emotional recently. Sometimes, I think you were the only thing keeping me sane." Sue leans into the touch, her face craning closer, pushing for more. "I'm scared all the time, Emily. I'm terrified."

"Of what?"

Sue opens her mouth and shuts it, until she swallows and words fall out in a flurry. "Of being forever this sad, of this marriage not working, of dying just to give this baby life." She looks up. "I'm terrified of losing you too, Emily. Of losing what he have."

Emily shakes her head, moving so both hands are enveloping Sue's face. "You won't lose me, Sue. Ever."

Sue closes her eyes, brings her hands to press against Emily's so she's trapped, close and consumed. Emily closes her eyes too, feels her arms bend further and Sue's breath warmer. Sue kisses like she's dying. As if she has moments left to live and Death will suck all air from her lungs unless she steals Emily's. Her tongue drags slow into Emily's mouth, pushes deep until Emily is swimming in Sue's sobs.

She's drowning, pulling for more and Sue is answering back just as eagerly. Her hands have moved to Emily's neck to keep her in place, but she wouldn't move away for anything anyway. When Sue has finally slowed the kiss, Emily feels her smile into it.

"I've missed this." Sue says, leaning back and pressing another kiss to Emily's lips.

Emily nods, swiping a thumb to the corner of her mouth before replacing it with her own. "Let's never stop doing it again."

Sue laughs, goes to say something before her face turns serious and eyes start bulging. "Emily." She says, and Emily feels sick. Sue's hand travels over the bump at her belly until she reaches below. "I think..."

The hand Sue brings back is wet with a pink tinge. "Oh my God." Emily hasn't prepared for this. She looks around for answers but finds none. "What shall I do?"

Sue is still studying her hand, dropping it down again and again to bring back more fluid. "I don't know."

"Can you walk?" Emily asks, sighing with relief as Sue nods. "Okay. Okay."

Emily starts pulling her across the garden, dragging a dead weight and trying not to think about what is happening. Sue is murmuring behind her, possibly telling Emily to slow, to steady, to stay please stay.

She pushes into the Dickinson house and screams as loud as she can, finally letting go of Sue's fingers and watching her fall to the ground. Slumped against the wall, the liquid begins to pool between her legs, coloring her cream dress with crimson and puddling around.

Emily screams and screams and screams until the house is awake with thunderous steps and slamming doors and shouting shrieking orders.

Through the chaos, Emily sees Sue picked up and pulled away. She's pushed to the side and Austin replaces her support. The door is closed and Emily is shut out and on the wrong side of a locked door.

With panic coursing through her body and bones, her bounding feet take her to the house up the hill.

She hasn't reached the door yet, hasn't climbed the curb or knocked the delicate door before she notices the dress.

"No." She says, pulling at the fabric. She touches her lips and sees red. "No, it's too early."

Death stands outside his carriage, leaning with a leg against the wood. "He's already departed, Emily. You're too late."

She turns with a frown so deep her features will never recover. "You said a day. You promised."

He shrugs, uncaring. "I say a lot of things, darling. I never promise."

Emily holds back her urge to fight, she would lose anyway. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she's relieved to see him here. If Death is busy with Old Mr Baker it means he isn't at the Dickinson estate.

"Is she going to be okay?" Emily asks, studying the face across.

Death tips his stick in the air, his eyes watching curiously. He knows who she's talking about. "In what way?"

Emily spits. "You know what way."

He pushes himself off the carriage, walks closer to Emily to run a finger down her face. "I'm not coming for her yet, if that's what you're asking."

She feels her whole body slump with relief, Death's nail falls with the movement. "Tell him thank you." She says, looking back to the house behind.

Death nods, stepping back and back and back until he's bending into his carriage.

Emily sprints back as fast as her feet allow.

She flies through the door in time to hear a baby cry and the new mouth suck all the worry away.

When she pushes the door open, Austin is rocking a bulging blanket and people she distantly recognizes as her family crowd him in the corner.

On the bed at the far wall in the center of the room, Sue lies alone on a bloody sheet and Emily can feel her heart begin to beat. Sue looks at her and Emily looks back and her feet bring her closer, closer, closer until she's climbing onto the bed and pulling her tight.

"You did it." She whispers, pressing into Sue's ear. "You did it."

Sue nods and holds her with what little strength she has left.

"Don't leave, will you?" She pleads, drained and dizzy.

She shakes her head, the answer obvious. Emily will never leave Sue.

She thinks, constantly, it'll lead to her destruction.


End file.
